HateGame
by Meulin's Disciple
Summary: Their relationship could easily be compared to the war on Skaia: a game of chess in which the dark side always wins. But when both sides are playing the black pieces, how do you determine the winner? Blackrom Gamrezi. Rated M for lemon. Please R&R!


_**A/N:**_ _Not much to say about this one... Other than that it should have been done the day I started typing it on my phone... xD_

_Also, I want to give a shout out to my friend who writes here, Scratchy Acid! She (you're a she, right? *awkwardface*) and I started PMing each other one day, and we still keep in contact! She is a really awesome person and and a really awesome writer! You should really check her Homestuck fics out when you get the chance! I personally like them quite a lot! :)_

_But anyway guys, I'll stop talking and let you all read the fic._

_It's Blackrom Gamrezi (which there NEEDS to be more of) and focuses a bit more on the internal and external kismesis conflict than the actual sex. But rest assured that there IS explicit sex. And tentabulge/nook combo for both genders. I understand that not everyone shares that headcanon, and some even find it icky-sticky, so I just thought it was only fair to warn you all!_

_Reviews are really appreciated, so please leave one if you feel so inclined! :3_

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**_HateGame_**

By: Meulin's Disciple

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The gentle caress of dandelion claws upon the firm and heated gray flesh tinted with the beginnings of what could easily become a deep purple flush was deceptively so. It was not meant to soothe, but to serve as a dark, extraordonarily tempting promise of things to come. The light, even irritation on his skin caused Gamzee to shiver, but thinking of the possibilities made him groan and his large unsheathed bulge pulse and writhe excitedly within his loose trousers. His nook was starting to leak some too.

And Terezi—straddling Gamzee's hips—with her bulge and nook so close to his own, even if they were seperated by only the thin, soft fabric of his trousers and her boxers, his bulge strained against the cloth, as did hers. Terezi leaned forward just the slightest bit, to allow the tentacle-like appendages to touch through the cloth. The sensation of that first contact elicited a deep groan from Gamzee and made Terezi's breath hitch.

"Motherfuck..."

"Oh God..."

Gamzee's breaths were heavy, trying to bring himself under control from under the cascade of pleasure. "D-did I say you could all up and talk...?"

Terezi ignored the attempt at a threat made pathetic by his half airy tone and cackled, but was clearly facing the same situation as her hatemate, panting and trying to hold back her moans and sighs. It was often almost more trouble than it was worth ('almost' being the operative word), but getting off to Gamzee's frustration always made it more than worth it in the end. "Look at you..." she taunted breathily. "So sensitive. And we haven't even finished taking our clothes off yet!"

"Why don't you all up and _shut_ up, _Tez_?" Gamzee's tone was mocking, had all the bite of a rabid barkbeast.

Terezi's eyes widened angrily and she wrapped the hand that was only recently lightly scratching at the center of Gamzee's chest around his throat, just tight enough to begin to cut off his respiration. "_You_ don't get to call me that," she said lowly. "Only Karkles can call me that."

Gamzee laughed hoarsely. "Yeah. Let's all up and talk about _Karkles_."

Terezi tightened her grip around his throat somewhat—still allowing him to breath, but with great difficulty—her eyes widening a tad more and her eyebrows furrowing deeply. "And only _I_ can call Karkat 'Karkles'!"

Gamzee smiled a deceivingly welcoming smile and his eyes hooded lazily. He derived great pleasure from the lack of air, his bulge wriggling around more desperately and his nook slick with genetic material, but he wasn't about to let on how much he was enjoying it... Well, not _then_, at least. Maybe he'd tell her some other time and they could have a good fuck after she called him a sick freak. Not that they weren't about to do just that. "You all up and listen to me, sis. You had your chance with Karbro. Hell, I wouldn't be too motherfuckin' shocked if he thinks you want the orange creamsicle human bro more than him."

Terezi narrowed her eyes. "You leave the coolkid out of this."

"What? You won't even all up and say his name? I thought you was flushed for him. Then again, what the motherfuck do _I_ know? I thought you was flushed for Karbro."

She reluctantly ignored Gamzee's latter comment and scoffed at the former, keeping her grip firm and steady against his neck and narrowing her eyes. "I wouldn't dirty his name by saying it in front of _you_."

"Oh yeah?" Gamzee rasped quietly, taking an audibly difficult gasp of breath before he continued speaking. "Then what was that I all up and heard the other day? 'Oh, Dave! Dave!'" He mocked her sensual cries with the high pitched tone of his wheezing voice. "I all up and saw you sucking his bulge. And then he pailed you... He pailed you _hard_, didn't he? He _must've_ with the way you was saying his name like a motherfuckin' mantra!" He maliciously laughed the best he could under the heavy surrounding pressure of Terezi's hand. "You motherfuckin' _forget_! I see everything from them motherfuckin' vents!"

Terezi's eyes widened again, her fangs bared and her jaw tightly clenched. She tightened her grip enough to cut off his breath entirely and then she drew the fist of her other hand back as though to punch him in the face, but then she shook her head condescendingly. "... You're not worth it," she spat before lowering her fist and releasing his neck entirely, bruises already beginning to blossom on the sensitive gray skin from her harsh grip. Gamzee gasped deeply—the first of the air filling his lungs almost painful—and then panted as his body once more become accustomed to the oxygen.

Terezi closed her eyes (though that was hardly necessary) and, through her nose, took a deep drag of the air around her, around _them_. Then she opened her eyes, her expression impassive. "I can smell your desperation, Gamzee. It smells like grape jelly. Thick and sweet," she taunted. And then she cackled again. She let ring freely that stupid, damned, _godforsaken_ cackle... But before Gamzee could make any sort of retort, she smashed her lips against his. He quickly began to respond to the rough kiss and soon slanted his lips against hers to deepen their lips' hateful embrace. Her tongue forced its way into Gamzee's mouth and slid across his, teasing, inviting his to join hers. His tongue touched hers for a fleeting moment before Terezi pulled her tongue back and then pulled away.

Gamzee looked dumbfounded for a moment before his eyebrows furrowed and his mouth bent into a deep, irritated frown. "Motherfuckin' bitch."

"What's wrong? Were you actually _enjoying_ that? Because _I_ wasn't; your make-up tastes like black chalk, and black chalk tastes like coal." Her nose scrunched and she frowned in distinct disgust. But she had enjoyed it too despite the taste of the make-up she so despised... Though she would never let _him_ know that.

"Like hell I liked it. Tasted just as cheap as the rest of you, you motherfuckin' slut."

Terezi cackled once more, this time softly, only for a second or two. "Grape. Jelly," she said quietly, mockingly, a maniacal grin stretching her lips and putting her fangs on display.

Gamzee's eyes widened in defiant anger and he flipped their positions, holding her wrists down with his hands, but keeping their hips pressed together. Afterwards, he momentarily took hold of the collar of Terezi's shirt with both hands, and tore the shirt down the middle before holding her wrists to the floor once again.

"Hey!" Terezi snapped.

"Now, now. Let's not all up and throw a motherfuckin' hissy fit over a tee that you got hundreds of."

"I needed that to go back to my room, fuckass!"

"Well," Gamzee said, deceptively cheerful. "You can all up and use one of my shirts. I'll tell you what: you can even keep the motherfuckin' thing! Think of it... as having a piece of me to hate whenever I'm not all up and around. You can even touch yourself and get off to it. I don't give a motherfuck!"

Terezi narrowed her eyes once more and growled lowly.

"But that's for motherfuckin' later. Right now... The Dark Carnival's in town, and you've got a front row seat, sis..."

"Will you _shut the fuck up_ about all the 'Dark Carnival' shi-" Terezi's breath hitched in her throat when Gamzee ground their bulges together. Gamzee threw his head back at the feeling but quickly managed to recompose himself.

"Not even a moan, sis? You ain't gonna say my name like you did with the 'cool' human?"

Terezi remained defiantly silent.

"Well, maybe we should try that again without _these_." And Gamzee released one of Terezi's wrists again, this time to bring his trousers down to his ankles and then off exposing his bulge and nook. "And the hell with it! Let's get rid of _these_ too!"

And with that, he tore Terezi's scalemate boxers as well, leaving her fully naked along with him. Gamzee bucked his hips forward, and his bulge finally made contact with hers without the impediment of fabric, sliding slickly with each other, twirling and intertwining around each other.

Both Terezi and Gamzee moaned at the uninhibited contact. Gamzee had left one of Terezi's wrists unrestrained after destroying her underwear (_Fucking asshole..._), and she was prepared to take full advantage of that freedom. She reached for his back, and placed it palm down onto the flat expanse, spreading her fingers, and feeling around. Gamzee's expression was that of blatant annoyance. "Y'know, I ain't your motherfuckin' matespri- MOTHERFUCK!" Terezi had just dug her claws deep into Gamzee's back and raked down fiercely. It would surely leave a scar that would closely match the one he sported on his face.

But as where that one was a trophy from a conquest, this one was a mockery from a kismesis.

The wound burned and purple blood seeped seemingly-endlessly from the jagged edges of the torn flesh, falling in little tiny drops from his ribcage and onto Terezi's stomach. The acid agony of the lacerations were in their own way bliss, making Gamzee's bulge writhe more desperately around and against Terezi's (or perhaps it was his body's way of seeking reprieve from the pain; Heaven as an analgesic for Hell's torment. But he couldn't really tell which it was, and he was too far fucking gone to care), and the urge to buck and grind his hips against his hatemate's was near irresistable at that point... But he managed to hold to his sanity (Sanity? _What _sanity?), though only just barely. The temptation to just finally get himself and her off (because even if he really, truly hated her, it's only fair, more or less the only true courtesy kismeses really allow one another) was quickly becoming too great to resist; the dark desire to jackhammer Terezi's soft, _tight_ (so, so tight) , yielding nook—especially after she just humilated him so and left him with a lasting reminder of that humiliation—one that he'd gladly acquiesce to fulfilling. He vaguely heard Terezi breathing heavily, trying to resist the urge to moan, but it hardly registered, his fantasies (which should, and _would_ become reality) at the time too loud in comparison.

Their relationship could easily be compared to the war on Skaia: a game of chess in which the dark side always wins. But when both sides are playing the black pieces, how do you determine the winner?

The answer is simple: you see who can trick the other into playing as the other side.

"Fuck me already! What are you _waiting for_ clown-shit-for-a-thinkpan?!" Terezi growled. "Or am I going to have to fuck _you_?"

Guess she was getting just as impatient.

"You need to chill..." Gamzee suggested, his tone thoughtful and dark. "Maybe have a Faygo."

"If you want me to have one of your stupid Faygos, then fucking give me o-" Terezi's eyes widened. She threw her head back in masochistic bliss and moaned loudly, feeling Gamzee's bulge quickly invading into her nook, filling her to the point of pleasurable discomfort.

Gamzee breathed shakily, and wheezed out a chuckle before his expression changed in the blink of an eye. There was a crazed look in his widened eyes. Not the tame, stoned one he had when he was calm, but one that spoke of a deep-seated madness, the one he only got if he was really pissed... or really horny. "There's your _goddamn Faygo_!"

And of course, with the madness rearing its ugly head, so too did the interesting tendency for Gamzee to speak certain sentences calmly and to shout others like the maniac he was.

Terezi could hardly catch her breath when Gamzee immediately began thrusting hard and fast into her nook. Moans and sighs escaped her lips, almost against her will. "F-fuck—ahn~—fuck you, G-Gamzee...!"

"What's that? You want some more Faygo?" he asked, deaf to her half-hearted insults. "You motherfuckin' _got it_!" And he pounded into her even harder and faster.

"S-stop talking ab-bout your—hahhhh...—y-your bulge like it's a—nngh~—b-b-bottle of Faaaaay~! ... Faygo..." Terezi snarled though the attempt at scolding Gamzee was made all the more pathetic by her constant sounds of pleasure. "It's fucking stupid..."

Gamzee groaned, then murmured, "You're motherfuckin' close." He laughed, then repeated as a shout, "You're _real_ motherfuckin' close!"

And he was right. He had gotten to know her body well... Just as she had with _his own_... And with as well as Terezi knew Gamzee's body and reactions, he was pretty damn close in his own right, but not quite as close as she was. He was _very_ sensitive, she'd give him that, but it took more to make him climax regardless.

_Perfect_...

"Y-you kn-know what, Gamzee..."

"Motherfuckin' _what_?!" he snapped as his hips snapped forward yet again, burying his bulge deep inside of Terezi's moist and sensitive twitching nook. Terezi moaned at the pleasure, but managed to stay focused.

With that, Terezi rolled herself and Gamzee over so that she was on top. Before Gamzee could recover his bearings, she began to bounce on his bulge, her brows knit tightly in concentration, and only moments later, she came with a loud gasping cry around and on top of a dumbfounded Gamzee, genetic material pouring from her bulge and nook. But she resisted the urge to ride the orgasm to its fullest. Instead, she shakily climbed off of him and sat by his side. She tightly grasped his bulge and pumped it as quickly as she could. Gamzee groaned with the attentions to his slick member; he had no reason to complain.

"Motherfuckin' shit!"

With that said, Terezi roughly grabbed Gamzee's hair and just as harshly tugged his head so that his line of sight would match up rather well with his groin. Before he could do—or even say—anything, Terezi had then aimed his bulge up at his face, and with her continued ministrations, he came not even a moment later. Thick purple ropes of genetic material squirted into his face and he was so focused on scrunching his eyes closed and spluttering and trying not to get it up his nose that he could hardly focus on the otherwise mindblowing climax.

Moments later, a short time after his climax ended, it was when he heard the creak of a door opening that he finally noticed that Terezi had gotten up and "borrowed" (translation: he's never getting that shit back) one of his shirts and a pair of his baggy clown pants.

"Oh. By the way. Before I leave... You asked, 'motherfuckin' what?', right?"

Gamzee reached around him, palming the floor for something to wipe his face with. He grabbed the torn remains of Terezi's shirt and wiped at his eyes with it. "Yeah... Motherfuckin' _what_?" he growled, still irritated, but calmer now.

Terezi walked out of the room and reached to close the door, but before she actually did, she turned slightly to look sightlessly at him with a snarky and triumphant smirk. Then, just before closing the door, she said, very matter-of-factly, "Grape jelly."

And she closed the door with a slam. But more than anything, it was that _wretched_ cackle that rang outside his door and in his ears as she left.


End file.
